


Forget Me Not

by Garotte8Goodnight



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Experimental AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 13:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6081369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garotte8Goodnight/pseuds/Garotte8Goodnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is haunted by a flesh and blood ghost; one with blue eyes the colour of a mid-winter sky, and hair the colour of the chestnuts that crunch beneath their feet as they walk through Central Park.</p><p>Steve doesn't know this man, he thinks he never will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget Me Not

**Author's Note:**

> Dreamed it, woke up at 3am to fic it. Any mistakes are mine, roughly scribbled in half an hour and unbeta'ed.

It was winter when they first met; snowflakes spiralling from the sky and settling softly on East 22nd, the night sky an inky carpet above alit only by golden street lights and festive shop windows. It was also summer, and autumn - walking a carpet of fallen leaves, all shades of ambers, oranges and dark browns, his hair a similar hue as he walks alongside him, it was also those first few wet days of spring. They met many first times.

He meets him in a park and he's reading Bukowski, two weeks later he will discover his favourite author is George Orwell, but for now it's dear Charles - as he tells him he is his most favourite author and he laughs and nods in agreement. They're strangers technically, but he seats himself on the grass beside him and after a while he starts to talk to him - asks about his day, the wool coat he's wearing in early autumn, what he will eat for dinner tonight. He's fascinating, and Steve could drink in every single flowing word for the rest of his life in that moment. 

Then he's gone in a flurry of blue eyes and long brown hair - it wasn't tied up today - and they'll meet for the first time two days later, he won't recognise him. 

Steve thinks the first time they ever, ever met was on the subway, it's hard to remember - but he can't remember ever seeing him before that. He was stood on the subway platform nearby; he noticed his eyes first, he always does, but his long black coat and red boots were equally striking. He will never see either of those two items again.

He thinks the first time they speak was in a coffee shop - he had a large table with all other seats unoccupied, and Steve asked if he minded if he sit with him. He says no, of course not, with a lilting laugh. His hair was tied up, and there were glasses perched on his nose as he leant over the screen of his laptop. They don't talk, but Steve sat with his sketchbook and carefully memorised every detail of the other man's face.

They won't speak again for two weeks, until he meets him for the first time in Times Square. He will have a beautifully confused look on his face when he addresses him as though they are friends - who is this strange man? But he'll nod and smile politely; try and make conversation to humour him.

Steve never finds out his name, at least, not the real one; sometimes its James, sometimes it's Jim, but it's also been Barnes, and Bucky and Yakov and Yasha.

Once they meet in a bookshop, Steve hands him a copy of a book that he knows he wants to read but hasn't got round to yet. He told him when he met him for the first time in a library three days ago, when Steve ducked in to hide from the rain and saw him sat at a study table; they were kicked out an hour later for talking. He takes the book with an air of almost reverence, holds it to his chest and thanks him profusely because it had been just what he'd come in looking for. Steve nods and smiles and tells him he best be getting on his way, but his beautiful stranger insists he join him for coffee first in the bookshop cafe. He's powerless to say no to those blue eyes, so of course he agrees. 

Sometimes Steve feels like he's chasing a ghost.

He meets him for the first time in a church; he hadn't intended to go, those types of places aren't really for him anymore, but he needed some place quiet to sit and sketch outside of the four drab grey walls of his apartment. It's raining outside so the park won't do. He knows how to get up to the buttressing in that particular church. There's a nook just along from a wooden walkway that winds around the top of the room, it's where the buttresses join together before they arc away high above and it's easy enough for him to climb to. He's sat there when he enters through the side door; hair loose around his face, wet and pale from the rain. He's sat in a pew, face down, hands clasped in prayer. He looks desperate, and Steve's heart aches for him, so he pulls a sheet loose from his sketchbook, writes him a note, and let's the paper airplane fall down, down, down until it bounces off of his still clasped hands.

His beautiful stranger leaves after checking to make sure that he truly was as alone as he thought, piece of paper clutched to his chest in wide eyed wonder.

He meets him for the first time two days later at the hospital, it's a small clinic but everything still has that bleached sterile smell that he hates and loves at the same time. It's the same smell that used to follow his Ma home from her shifts on the ward, and its presence is bittersweet; there are far too many ghosts that haunt Steven Grant Rogers. 

He is just there for a routine checkup, and he smiles at him as he sits down beside him in one of the cold plastic chairs, his beautiful stranger smiles back and he wants to melt at the sight. They talk while they wait, Steve finds out that he's there for problems to do with his short term memory retention, apparently he has regular checkups as it's been going on for many years. He can't remember how many. He waves him away as the doctor calls for "James" and he wants to cry. He will never remember him no matter how many times they meet for the first time.

Steve doesn't see him for a few weeks after that, but of all the places, he meets him in Washington DC when he goes to visit his friend Natasha. She moved there recently with work for a few months and it's the first time he's made it out to see her. 

Natasha answers with a grin as he knocks on her apartment door, tells Steve she hopes he doesn't mind that she has a friend staying for a few days - he's nice guy and he's just out of hospital. The sight of the beautiful boy with blue eyes the colour of summer rain just sitting on his friends couch like he's supposed to be there takes Steve's breath away.

Steve waves as he enters the room, and startles in surprise as recognition flashes across the other mans face for the first time. "Steve.." he breathes slowly, and he wants to fall to his knees. "James" he whispers, and smiles back.

Steve thinks that maybe the ghosts looking over his shoulder are just angels who forgot themselves.


End file.
